Self Delusion
by ryrous
Summary: Hermione's thoughts during the 10 minutes that she thinks Harry's dead during the final Battle in Book 7. OneShot, H/Hr


**This is an idea I had on vacation in Croatia, thinking about a theory my cousin had about Hermione's sudden like of Ron, enjoy**

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><p>You stare numbly at the body in front of you.<p>

Nothing could have prepared you for this. You knew it would happen, he said it would happen. With your logical brain you know it had to. He had to die for the Greater Good, but as his killer gloats over the defeat of the great Harry Potter you ask yourself what good this could ever lead to. His eyes are closed, and a pang breaks through the numbness as you realize you'll never see those green eyes again.

Another crack appears in the wall in your heart and all you can think of is how you're glad his eyes are closed. You don't want to see them like this. It was never the eyes that had enchanted you, but the light behind them.

It's a horrible moment as Ginny recognizes him and runs forward, the scream in her throat awakening something you didn't know was in you. Didn't admit was in you. The wall crashes down and pain attacks from all sides and your heart lets out a scream infinitely more desperate, more hopeless than that of the girl he loved. But all you show is the tear, the one tear that sneaks down your cheek and betrays you to the redheaded boy next to you.

You are supposed to be strong, you promised yourself you would be. You've made other promises to yourself too, promises that all seem to be falling to pieces.

Ron notices your crying and puts a tentative arm around you in support, but the arm burns like a brand. It takes all your resolve to not push him away, to scream in his face, to let the pain in and to cause him some too. You want to hurt him, to tell him you never wanted him anyway because now you know you didn't.

Of course, you don't do any of this, because you know it's not right. It's not right to cause others pain when you're feeling it, though that never stopped Ron. He's hurt you and teased you and left you and he dares console you. He dares to try to take away the pain of losing the only one who never left you, the only one who made you feel safe even when you've been inches away from death.

Now death had finally caught him, it came and took Harry away from you. Now it laughs in your face and mocks your weakness to the boy you forced yourself not to love, and your desperate, pleading heart begs it to stop the torture, to give him back, if only for you to tell him you love him after all.

The worst part, the absolute worst part, is that you know you threw away what was precious. You turned your face from him, because you thought you could control your heart with your mind. For five years at school you had suffered, but at least you had been honest with yourself. But you're not stupid, you know those late-night crying stints in your poster bed had nothing to do with Harry not wanting you. They were worry, worry about his safety, worry about the safety of your heart.

Ron was safe, Ron was easy. You risked nothing with him because your heart was still your own. With Harry, it was different. He could take your breath away, he could make your stomach hurt with butterflies when his breath hit your neck while he was copying your notes. He could make you so happy that your heart hurt. He could cause so much joy, and so much… hurt.

You've always been a clever girl, you always knew there was real danger in what he did. That's why you gave up on him after all, in addition to the fact that you knew he could stomp on your heart without effort if he wanted to. You weren't pretty, you weren't athletic, He didn't need you or your silly books, why on earth would he ever love you the way you loved him?

You told yourself you didn't love him, you told yourself he was like your brother, and the thing about self-delusion is, after a while you start to believe the lies. For a time. It never lasts.

And now your stubborn resolve has buckled under the pressure of his death, and you start to see with a horrible clarity, and it is far too late.

You stare at his body and wonder if there's still warmth in his skin, and your heart aches to go and touch his face and tell him to wake up. But even if you did, you know he wouldn't, so you stand where you are. You stand, staring at what is left of Harry and you miss him and love him and fight with all your might to keep the sobs and hysteria back, knowing that it is all over for you.

He had your heart anyway, you see it now, and all you've done is cause a mess that won't be able to be cleaned up. You ruined everything and lost what was most important to you. Waves of regret seem to pulse through your now shaking body, mixed with the icy, acidic feel of self-hatred and it's all you can do not to run a few paces ahead and beg for death from the same wand that took away your love and join him in whatever kind of oblivion death actually is.

You don't though, you don't because you know that he died to keep you safe, he died because he loved you, if only as a friend.

Yes, he loved you, and you know that, because what you and he had was something that ran deep into your very soul. He was not only your love, but your dearest, closest friend. A part of you takes comfort in knowing maybe you owned a little piece of his heart that was only yours.

But a much larger part of you hates yourself for not allowing yourself to let him know you loved him, for having been too scared to lose. You don't even need it to be requited, just him knowing would have been enough. Maybe you could have found a solution, maybe you would have been more willing to fight for what you would lose, but instead you let him die.

You let him die and you know it. You distanced yourself from him to save yourself in case of this, but you abandoned him in the process. It was a self-fulfilling prophecy.

As the remorse bounces around your head, you give way to the pressure and fall to your knees, sobs making it nearly impossible to breathe. Your tears fall freely now, and they splash on the dirt caked, bloodstained ground like rain. The pain is deathly sharp and you can only think of how you killed him, your thoughts swirling in a mass of self-hatred and regret, the hurt physically burning every nerve ending. It's worse than torture.

You think of all the times you could have told him, wishing desperately you hadn't let the three simple words shrivel up, unspoken on your tongue.

You think of the tent, where you could have whispered it in his ear in the dark.

You think of the Yule Ball, when you could've asked him to dance with you just once. You know he wouldn't have been able to resist, regardless of his feelngs for Cho.

You think of when he saved you from Grawp, his strong arms locked about you in a protective embrace.

You think of going flying with him on Buckbeak, You hate flying but it had been alright, because he was there.

You think of the green of his eyes.

The smell of his hair.

The way his glasses would fall crooked when he didn't notice.

The way he would look at you, bewildered at your intelligence, when you were just happy to impress him.

You'll always miss him, like a plant without water, or a desert without rain.

And you just wish you had said something, something to let him know that he wasn't alone, that someone did love him, would always love him, whether or not he loved you back.

But it is too late, and your self-delusion is dead when you need it most.

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><p>And then Harry jumps up.<p>

You look up and see his face filled with triumph, reveling in the shock of the Dark Lord.

You wipe the tears off your face, dazed and bewildered.

You don't know what to do.

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><p><strong>Did you like it? It was a lot of fun to write.<strong>

**Please review, I love concrit or even just a pat on the back to know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong.**

**Thanks!**

**-ryrous**


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